Somewhat to Embellish
by hauntedlittledoll
Summary: Title taken from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Red-Headed League."  Written for the prompt "Castiel went with him when Gabriel left heaven."  A string of events proven by angelic interference in history.


"Gabriel . . ."

The archangel paused at the edge of heaven. Of all the angels to notice his quiet exit . . . of course it would be this one. Gabriel turned back-something he had resolved not to do.

"Castiel."

"You are leaving." It is not a question. Others forget how smart this particular angel is, but not Gabriel. He knows that this little brother can think outside the box.

Gabriel shrugged. "Just thought a vacation might be nice."

"A vacation?" Castiel asked quietly. "For how long?"

"I don't know. Maybe just until Michael realizes I'm gone and comes to drag me back," Gabriel muttered, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice.

"Michael isn't paying attention to much anymore," Castiel informed him, worriedly.

Gabriel shrugged. "I'm kind of counting on that."

"Gabriel, don't go."

"You're not going to stop me, Castiel." Gabriel stared beyond the younger angel at the full expanse of heaven laid before him. "Dad isn't here, and I'm not sticking around to listen to all the bickering either."

"It's not that bad."

"You've scarcely known anything else," Gabriel sighed. He looked up at his brother hesitantly. "You could come with me, bro."

Castiel wavered.

"No more fighting. No more duties. Just you and me learning what it means to be brothers again . . . and an in-depth study of humanity."

Castiel is torn between obedience to Michael and obedience to Gabriel. Also, possibly fear, and Gabriel almost withdraws the invitation.

"I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be. I'll take care of you, little brother."

"I don't want to fall."

Gabriel grinned. "I'm not planning on falling, Bro."

"Father may be on earth."

"Maybe, but don't get your hopes up," Gabriel cautioned. "If Dad doesn't want to be found, He won't be."

"But we'll look?"

"Sure, we'll look for Dad. Check out Babylon and maybe a Crusade or two. Oh, and there's a couple interesting beings that I'd like to introduce you to . . . Odin's not bad so long as you don't stand downwind."

Castiel frowned in confusion.

Gabriel held out his hand. "Trust me, Bro?"

Castiel glanced back at Heaven, and Gabriel wondered for the first time what the younger angels saw. Castiel sighed, and took the offered hand.

"Yes."

* * *

The being known as Loki writhed from where he had been bound to the stone as his wife hastily emptied the bowl of venom.

"Stand back."

Sigyn was not given a choice, as the male figure swept her under one arm and out of his way. A blade unlike any the Norse had seen before slashed through the air and the serpent's head tumbled away from the rest of the body, smoking faintly.

The stranger gently returned Sigyn to her feet, and approached her husband with his blade in hand. "Are you quite finished playing, Gabriel?"

"Long-finished, Castiel," 'Loki' gasped, the wounds sealing before their very eyes. His own were closed tightly against the pain, and the stranger raised his blade once more.

Sigyn threw herself between the weapon and her husband, forcing the stranger to pause and regard her calmly from the bluest eyes she had ever seen in man, god, or animal.

"I do not intend to harm-merely to free him."

The stranger carefully stepped around her, sliding the flat of his blade against her husband's bare chest, under the bindings.

"No blade forged in Midgard can cut these bonds," she whispered, covering the stranger's hand with her own. "For they are the entrails of our own son."

"This blade was not forged in your Midgard," the stranger informed her gently, rotating the blade in his hand and slicing upward quickly. 'Loki' flopped forward, and the stranger caught him, bracing her husband's body until Loki recovered the use of his limbs.

"Sigyn, I'd like you to meet my brother, Castiel," 'Loki' coughed, clearing his throat and taking the proffered blade. "Castiel, my wife."

Sigyn could only stare.

Her husband turned to the man he called brother-to Castiel. "Did you find our Father yet?"

"He is not in any territory under these pagans' domain," Castiel responded flatly. "We should leave, Gabriel."

"I have unfinished business, brother," and her husband's eyes flashed gold in a way that unsettled Sigyn who was used to so much of her husband's power.

"You are weakened, and we have attracted attention."

Gabriel-not Loki as she knew him-thrummed with anger unparalleled. For a moment, Sigyn feared these beings that were not gods, were not men, and were perhaps not even giants. Then her husband reined it all in once more.

"Sigyn," and he kissed her forehead, smoothing her hair in his hands. "You must return to your father's house. I must leave here."

Sigyn wanted to protest, but he silenced her gently.

"I will return. Tell all of the nine worlds that I will return," and his eyes were golden and terrifying once more. "I will ensure that all of their prophecies come to pass. And when I do, the dead will follow." Gabriel smiled. "I have people in high places."

Hel.

Gabriel released her, stepping back into the shelter of his taller brother's side. "Tell no one the names that you have heard today."

On her son's spilled blood, she would never reveal the names of Gabriel and Castiel. Loki's children would have vengance. Loki's name would persist.

Two foreign fingers pressed to her forehead and Sigyn's sleep was accompanied by the low growl of the brother's voice.

"Can't leave you alone for even a decade or two, honestly, Gabriel."

* * *

"Ow."

Another broken feather was plucked from his wings by a completely unsympathetic brother, making Gabriel inhale sharply.

Castiel silently carded his fingers through his brother's left wing searching for tender spots.

"You could pretend to be speaking to me," Gabriel tried, hopefully.

"You could pretend to be an archangel," Castiel pointed out shortly. "Instead of playing games."

"I like games," Gabriel persisted.

"This appears to be a footprint, Gabriel."

"I said 'Don't ask,' Castiel. Didn't I say 'don't ask?' A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

There was a long moment of utter stillness, broken by:

"Hey, praying doesn't count if it's a commentary on my love life!"

"I apologize."

"There, that's bett-ow!"

"There appear to be several footprints," Castiel continued blandly. "As well as a few singed feathers. I assume Kali did not welcome your advances."

"She is playing hard to get," Gabriel conceded, "But it's safe to say that she's definitely interested-ow!" Gabriel twisted to rub at the tweaked wing petulantly. "I said I was sorry."

"You deliberately sent me on a . . . a wild goose chase . . . through the better half of Asia so that you might flirt with a dangerous goddess. God is not examining livestock. You lied to me."

"I said I was sorry. You just looked unsettled by . . ."

". . . the blasphemy?"

"Yeah, so I thought if I just gave you an excuse-how did I know you were going to take off for-ow!"

"Every time you find an attractive female, you sense something that could be our father, and every time I act immediately upon your direction," Castiel lectured, combing through the free expanse of white feathers. "From now on, I shall accompany you in your Trickster duties, and you shall accompany me on my search."

Flexing his wings, Gabriel heaved a sigh. "Have I told you how much you suck as a wing man?" he addressed Castiel, twisting in place. "This is going to take a lot of work."

* * *

"You will have to settle for nodding or shaking your head, Gabriel," Castiel remonstrated gently.

A loud, persistant squawk responded angrily.

"If you insist on working inside another Trickster's territory, then you must resign yourself to just desserts of your own," Castiel lectured. "Which includes being transformed into an even smallere befeathered creature than you already were."

The bird bit him.

Castiel frowned. "You deserve whatever Coyote dishes out, Gabriel."

Ruffled, it turned away from him very deliberately showing more sentinence than Castiel was really comfortable with-Gabriel or not.

Cautiously, Castiel stroked it, and Gabriel arched under his hand as if he was a cat rather than a crow. Castiel shook his head in exasperation.

"I saw a Winchester today." Still a generation off, but soon. "We have to go back, Gabriel."

The bird cocked its head and glanced around the apartment that the brothers shared. It reflected Gabriel's taste, but the bookshelves were Castiel's. The younger angel would miss this-all of this in Heaven.

"We have to go back. I am to raise the righteous man from perdition."

The bird ruffled again, flew away to perch on the back of the recliner and with a louder pop than usual, Gabriel slid back into his human shape and fell into the broken-in seat.

The archangel-turned-Trickster leaned forward. "What do you say we skip Perdition, Bro?"

Castiel frowned severely. "We cannot shirk our duties so lightly in the face of the Apocalypse."

Gabriel grinned. "Of course not. Which is why I think we should avert the Apocalypse."

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "Such actions would draw the attention of our brethren."

"Castiel . . . do you have no faith?" Gabriel asked in mock sadness.

"I'm listening."


End file.
